/wave

Hello everyone. I'm new to these forums, and while I have had some experience with RPing & writing what I supose you could call fanfic, I've never actually done it in the Fallout universe before.

I don't currently have a set character in mind to try to get in on the RP threads going on here, but wanted to get myself back in the groove of writing again, so I'm going to start this thread with one off stories and a hope that a character develops itself for me.

I'd love critique or feedback on anything I write. I am a long-time fan of Fallout, but I do have to admit that I'm not the strongest on the lore so it's always good to learn.

The pain can’t be described. Millions of tiny pin pricks driving into my skull, opening its contents up to the dim light of this bathroom that feels like a fire against my eyes.

I hunch over and retch into the steel bowl I’ve been wrapped around all night, full of fetid trash and piss. The bile burns my throat, stings the barely healing pustules lining the insides of my cheeks - not much comes out.

I don’t remember the last time I ate, so that makes sense.

I’m on my feet now, staggering to the sink, staring in the mirror as I splash the frigid water against my face. Stare at the sunken cheeks and uneven scrawl of tattoos, the missing clumps of hair and rotten teeth decaying out of my mouth. Souvenirs of the last five years of my life.

I don’t remember how I ended up like this. I promised my family I was going to be someone. That I was going to do something. That I was going to get off the farm and make them proud.

I’m going to die soon. But for right now, I just need another fix. Make the pain go away.

I grunt briefly at the walking corpse I’ve become and wipe my mouth with the scrap of cloth emblazoned with a faded yellow 3 that someone left on the ledge. Then I stumble away, through the groaning pneumatics of the door and into the hallway.

The light is worse out here, flickering on and off as I make my way down the hallway, just long enough for my eyes to start to adjust and then plunging me into darkness. In the distance I hear the shouts of some of the others, a raiding party back with the latest haul.

I know I won’t get any though - I don’t have anything they want. So I veer right, away from the shouts. I’m holding myself up with one hand on the wall, and my palm is getting sticky from pressing against the fresh paint from someone’s new tag.

Snake-tongue. Split his tongue years ago, now when he talks you see it slither around in his mouth. Creeps me out, like a bad trip. But he took care of me when I first came to the Vault. And he’ll have something. We go back. He’ll share, and the pain will go away.

“Snaaaaaakeeeee” The words are slurring from my tortured lips as I stumble into his room. “I nee’-need’a hit of sumth’-[censored]!”

Snake-tongue is spread out on his bed, split tongue lolling out of the corner of his mouth, eyes rolled up into the back of his head. Gone to the well one too many times.

I’m not sad. It’ll be me soon too, somebody walking in looking for a handout, finds me before the flies do.

And for now, all I can think about is the inhaler I’m prying from the icy grip of Snake, and the swirl of chemicals teasing behind the glass. Might be a bad batch that killed him. Might be about to kill me. I put the inhaler to my lips.

This what it is to be a Fiend, one foot in the grave.

I breathe in deeply, and press down on the release. The flood is instant, the release sweet. The pain in my muscles rushes away, replaced with a sense of calm as the world around me seems to slow down. I feel the thump of my heart in overdrive inside my chest.

Outside I hear screams, fury mixed with panic. I’m upright, laughing at the world around me and staggering into the hallway. A few feet away I see someone - don’t know him. New guy, I guess. Not ravaged by the poison yet. I stumble towards him, reaching out. Jet always makes me friendly.

Come with me I want to tell him. Come with me, and I’ll tell you all about Snake-tongue.

The world around me is moving so slow, my mind racing so much faster than it can process. He has something in his hands, dark metal that I know I should recognize. But I don’t care.He lifts it up, points the stubby end towards me.

I’ll take care of you. He lifts up the dark piece of metal, points its stubby end at my head. And one day when you find my corpse, you can feast on my remains.

There’s a sudden flash of light from the metal in the stranger’s hands. And the pain in my head can’t be described.